


The One Where Everyone Knows (Except Them)

by sealavenderinajamjar



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, General fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealavenderinajamjar/pseuds/sealavenderinajamjar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern AU told from the perspectives of different people in Bellamy and Clarke's circle. Because these two are just so obvious (to everyone else).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven makes her grand appearance as Clarke and Octavia's irritated roommate.

“Fuck you, you self-righteous asshole!”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to, princess!”

Raven’s admittance into World War Three came via an exiting Octavia, who had her headphones in and her running gear on. Raven slumped against the doorframe in exasperation.

“It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday” she groaned. “What the fuck could they have to argue about on a Tuesday that is this earth shatteringly important?”

“Don’t get me started,” Octavia warned, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “I’m going for a run, then I’m headed over to Lincolns for the night. Call me if they try to blow something up.”

“You’re a goddamn traitor Blake!” Raven called after Octavia’s swiftly disappearing form, then she sighed and let herself into the apartment.

Normally, when she had a day like this, all she wanted was to veg out on the couch, force her roommates to make her favourite pasta, and drown herself in the E! Network. But alas, fortune was not on her side that day.

“You know something?” Clarke was yelling at Bellamy, her small figure nearly vibrating with anger. ”If you were nearly half as smart as you think you are, you’d think you’d have caught on about how everybody is fed up with all the macho bullshit you keep pulling all the time!”

“Oh gee thanks princess,” sneered Bellamy from his position on the other side of the table, his hands braced against one of their shitty Formica chairs. “I’m flattered you think I’m clever”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Bellamy!”

“Then what the hell did you mean?” Bellamy taunted.

Ducking for cover, Raven sprinted the few metres to her room and slammed the door shut. Dropping her bag on the ground, she began the process of taking of her brace, while the never-ending argument that was Bellamy and Clarke continued on the other side of the wall.

It had been like this ever since Raven had known them, halfway through last year when her psychotic landlord had kicked her out of her flat, and in sheer desperation, she had turned to her ex-boyfriend’s other girlfriend (hence the ‘ex’) for help. Nearly eighteen months later, she loved the flat, tolerated the company, and definitely liked that the university was only a few blocks away, but the one thing she was still trying to deal with was the fact that Bellamy Blake, her roommate’s moody, good-looking, older brother, had somehow managed to wrangle an apartment across the hall from his baby sister. And that he and her other roommate (the aforementioned ex’s second girlfriend) Clarke Griffin, hated each other. Like, a lot.

It was constant. Bellamy was always finding an excuse to come over to see O, while simultaneously managing to say something innocuous enough that would get Clarke puffed up like an angry cat. Watching them at first had been entertaining, like watching a Chihuahua yip at a grouchy bulldog, but now it had become like very loud white noise, as ever-present as background music during their various game nights, movie marathons, and mammoth study sessions. Raven wasn’t even sure if they knew what they were arguing about anymore.

As she finally slid her brace off and stretched out her stiff muscles, she was aware that the screaming match had muted significantly. Getting up, she limped over to the door and opened it a crack. Through the thin opening she could see Bellamy and Clarke were still glowering at each other from across the table, but were surprisingly quiet. Clarke rolled her eyes and made her way over to the kitchen bench, where she began pulling out ingredients for dinner- a pasta bake by the look of it, Raven noted with glee. Bellamy was as still as a rock, watching Clarke with an unreadable look on his face. He must have made up his mind about something, as Raven watched with curiosity as he made his way over to Clarke and began helping her prepare the meal, grabbing the board and knives as she silently handed him tomatoes to chop. They were talking now; about less troublesome things, the weather, a placement in a tenth grade History class that Bellamy was hoping to get, Clarke’s douchey boss at her part-time gallery assistant job.

Not for the first time, Raven was struck by how well they could work together when they weren’t screaming bloody murder, their low voices in harmony as they discussed the mundane and minute like old friends who had been through a war together. Maybe they had, she mused. Maybe they were going through their own war every day, with each other. Closing the door, Raven lunged for her phone, sitting abandoned on the bed. She began typing.

_‘hey monty, how do you feel about gambling on extremely poor odds?’_

“REYES!” Clarke hollered from the kitchen. “If you want to get fed, you better help out!”

Rolling her eyes, Raven opened the doors, pleading silently that this meant they were done bickering for the night.

(They weren’t)

(Of course)


	2. Miller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miller makes an appearance as Bellamy's oh so observant co-worker at a bookstore. Yep, I'm pulling out all the tropes for this one.

The chime of bell above the door roused Nathan Miller from where he was, half-slumped over a stack of the latest YA dystopian novel that he had to shelve. The shop was normally quiet during the weekdays, so he had decided to take the opportunity to get ahead of schedule. He wanted to go home early so he could finish a lab report for his Psych class that was driving him insane, and then get very drunk. Maybe not even in that order.

“Hello?”

At the familiar voice, Miller groaned internally. Of course it was her. Only she would come in on a weekday, when she knew he was working the morning shift. And it was just his luck that he was stuck in the crossfire.

He heard the soft thump of Bellamy getting off the ladder in the backroom, where he had undoubtedly been buried in one of his mythology books rather than actually doing stocktake, like he had promised he would.

“Welcome to Scorpion’s, how may I help…oh. What do you want princess?”

Miller peered out from behind the Children’s section, watching the two of them face off. Clarke was pretty, he had to admit, even if he didn’t swing that way. Today she was dressed up, obviously headed to her fancy job at the gallery, with her normally loose blonde hair swept into a complicated looking braid, and she was wearing a stiff-looking blazer over a blue dress. Bellamy looked the same as he always did, with his threadbare t-shirt and worn jeans, his much-hated glasses hanging off the pocket of his favourite flannel shirt. Although they couldn’t be more different, appearance wise, Miller could almost see the comical side in how they mirrored each other in posture, shoulders pushed back, a defensive set to their jaws.

“My boss needs me to pick up the new Rembrandt text you guys just got in” Clarke said, folding her arms across her chest and staring levelly at Bellamy. “Can I get it?”

“Only if you say please, princess” Bellamy said, letting himself out from behind the counter and heading over to the non-fiction section, Clarke trailing reluctantly behind him. “Even royalty needs to be polite.”

“Oh my god, would you give it a rest with the royalty crap and just get me my book, Blake,” Clarke said exasperatedly.

Miller went back to stacking books, but their conversation floated over the tops of the shelves.

“I’ll call it how I see it, _princess_ ”

“Obviously you’ve never met royalty, otherwise you would know that I’m the furthest thing from a princess you could get,”

“And I suppose you have?”

There was silence from the other side of the bookshelf.

“You’re shitting me.”

“It was a fundraiser. She wasn’t even a major princess, just from some small European country that was interested in the work my, my parents…” Her voice slipped on the plurality. She recovered and continued. “They were working on a new kind of prosthetic limb and she was…”

“You know what,” Bellamy interrupted. Miller could see his dark head bobbing above the rack of moleskin journals. “Sometimes I forget that you’re just slumming it down with us plebs, and then you say shit like that, and then it all comes rushing back.”

“Screw you Bellamy,”

“Careful there, little miss rich girl, you keep saying bad words like that, and I’ll have to tell Daddy on you.”

Miller had to stifle a gasp. That was a dick move, even for Bellamy. It was an agreed upon rule in their small group of friends that there were some subjects that wouldn’t be broached. Don’t talk about Raven’s childhood, Bellamy and Octavia’s mom was off limits, Jasper and Monty’s drug convictions as minors were only okay occasionally. But especially, don’t bring up Clarke’s dad.

He heard her small intake of air, staccato against the silence of the shop.

“I have to go now,” she said quietly. Miller heard her about face and march towards the door.

‘Shit,” Bellamy muttered under his breath. “Shit!” he said louder. “Clarke, wait!”

Miller leaned out fully now, not even pretending to not be listening. Clarke had stormed through the front door, and was making her way down the street, an extremely hurt look on her face. Bellamy went sprinting after her, the heavy Rembrandt book under his arm. Miller hurried to the front of the shop, looking out the window down the street, where Bellamy had caught up with Clarke. He grabbed her arm and turned her round. She shrugged his hand off her and appeared to be admonishing him for being a dick. To be fair to Bellamy, he did look quite ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck as she continued to yell at him, and then he took both Miller and Clarke by surprise and grabbed the hand that was currently waving around at him between his own.

Clarke looked speechless, which was a rare thing, and Bellamy leaned in and talked to her, an earnest look on his face. She appeared to visibly soften, her arms dropping but her fingers still intertwined with Bellamy’s. He finished speaking and stepped back, letting go of her hand and flexing his fingers slightly. She started talking again, and he nodded along with her. Finally, she seemed happy, and he handed the book over to her. She went to turn away, but Bellamy called her back. Miller watched with bated breath. If what he thought was about to happen actually happened he might’ve died of shock there and then.

“This shit’s better than an Austen book,” he muttered to himself.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, Bellamy took a strand of her hair that had come loose from her plait and tucked it back in, his hand lingering a little too long. Clarke looked flustered- another unusual look for the usually unflappable Griffin- and smiled up at Bellamy, before apparently remembering where she was and beating a hasty retreat. Bellamy turned to walk back to the shop, an unfocused smile on his face, before he spotted Miller, who became very interested in a display of dinosaur books they had put out this morning.

“Not a word, Nate,” Bellamy warned as he came back into the shop, looking slightly flushed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Miller said, trying to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. Bellamy just grunted and headed into the backroom, muttering under his breath. When he was gone, Miller immediately whipped out his phone.

_o, i think you and reyes might be onto something with that crackpot theory of yours._

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Miller.  


“Bellamy?” he called. “Did you charge Clarke for that book?”

The resulting “SHIT!” from the backroom had him in stitches for the next fifteen minutes in the self-help aisle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad that Raven's chapter wasn't as long as the upcoming ones, but hey, it was supposed to be a oneshot. I'll try to keep a lid on the word count for the next ones. Also yes I know it's cliche af, but I write what I like. Also I'm trying to start slow.  
> Come criticise me on tumblr! I'm princess-blakes over there.


	3. Monty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monty Green, everyone's fave, observes a study session with Clarke. #sciencebros

Clarke Griffin was distracted. That was the first thought Monty had when she thumped a heavy textbook down next to him, jolting him out of a happy daydream which involved a boy with a beanie and definitely no upcoming chemistry finals. Her hair was falling out of its pins and her brow was furrowed in annoyance as she quickly unpacked her notes and stationery from her bag and sat down. She finally took a breath and stilled.

“Should I bother asking what’s wrong?” Monty ventured, trying to look more supportive than he felt.

Clarke let out a groan and buried her head in her arms on the desk. “I need to quit my job,” she muttered, the words muffled.

“That’s what you said last week,” Monty reminded her. “And the last week, and the week before that, and…”

“Alright, I get your point,” Clarke said, sitting up “But can you just be the kind, non-judgemental Monty I know and love right now? For five minutes?” She batted her eyelashes at him, faux-pleadingly.

Monty rolled his eyes and turned back to his bio-chemistry notes. Ever since they had first been assigned as lab partners in high school, he and Clarke had had a standing study date every Thursday afternoon, and it had weathered a lot. From idiotic best friends and douchebag boyfriends, to irritating roommates and bad break ups, their partnership had always been rock solid. But more recently, his ‘Clarke-time’ had been marred by constant complaining about one of either two subjects; 1) Bellamy ‘Fucking’ Blake or 2) her inability to leave the gallery, where her bosses (the father-son duo from hell) were constantly demanding too much of her. Monty had made his case for quitting several times, but he was always rebuffed with a ‘not yet’. It was starting to get irritating, and Monty didn’t like feeling that way about Clarke, who had always been consistently one of his favourite people.

The pair sat comfortably in silence, the hum of the library comforting as students came and went. Occasionally Monty would glance over at Clarke, who was now attacking a lab report with a highlighter, but she still looked stressed, and tired. She looked really, really tired, and Monty felt his annoyance slip into concern.

The buzz of a phone startled Monty, making his pen shoot across the page. 

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath, looking over at Clarke, who was smiling down at the screen of her phone. She tapped out a quick response, then put the phone down and picked up her highlighter- but it hovered in the air for a good ten seconds before she got back down to business.

The next hour went on like that, with Monty’s note-taking being constantly interrupted by buzzing, the clicking of Clarke’s touch-screen keyboard (he had to teach her how to turn the sound off that thing) and the occasional chuckle from Clarke at whoever had her attention. Monty was just about at his wits end when a jovial “Clarke!” was called from across the room.

They looked up simultaneously. Wells Jaha was strolling across the open space towards them, a wide grin on his face. Clarke’s face lit up.

“Wells!” she whisper-shrieked, vaulting out of her chair and running around the table to envelop him in a hug. “When did you get back from Ecuador?”

“Last night,” he replied in a loud voice, eliciting many glares from the surrounding patrons. “Oh man, you would not believe the hold-up I had at the embassy, there was one asshole who nearly got himself punched out by this badass receptionist with a prosthetic hand and…”

“Would you shut up?!” an angry looking girl said from the corner of a room, her eyebrows pinched underneath her impressive braided hairstyle. Monty tried to stifle a laugh at the mortified look on Wells’ face. 

“Come on,” Clarke said. “Let’s head over to the coffee shop near the humanities centre and you can tell me all about it. You don’t mind, do you Monty?”

Monty flapped his hand disparagingly. “You kids go ahead and have fun. Besides, I only have a half hour before I have to meet Jasper and Maya for ‘drinks’.”

Clarke grinned at him. “You’re the best. See you on Saturday then?”

“I’ll be the one in nothing but his birthday suit,” Monty quipped, making Clarke wrinkle her nose.

“Dude,” she said. “Gross.” She swept her books quickly into her bag and then, grabbing Wells by the arm, made her way down the library staircase.

It was only when their heads had just disappeared from his line of sight when Monty heard the now all too familiar buzz of a cellphone. Looking around for his own phone (which he had sworn he had put on silent), he noticed the glow coming from under his recently annotated notes. Pushing them aside, he saw Clarke’s familiar sky blue phone case and a message pulsing across the screen.

“Crap,” Monty muttered under his breath. She must have missed it in her rush to leave. However, something else piqued his interest- the message itself.

_Butthole Blake_

_07:15pm_

_as someone who has definitely been on the receiving end of some of your more sanctimonious speeches, I can definitely say that you’re not being unreasonable about this, for a change ;)_

A winky face? Bellamy Blake, overall grump and advocate for the banning of all emoticons, was sending _Clarke Griffin_ a fricking winky face? What were they doing texting each other anyway? As far as Monty knew, the only interaction they had was when Bellamy wrangled his way into their apartment and onto group outings in order to ‘keep an eye on Octavia’. Like Octavia couldn’t kick ass all on her own.

But now, apparently, they were text buddies? The temptation to break into Clarke’s phone to find out more was so strong…

“I knew I had left it here!” The exclamation came along with a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for grabbing it Monty.” Clarke held out her hand and Monty dropped the phone into it dutifully. She swiped at the screen and smiled fondly at the message on it (fondly?), before whipping her head up and eyeing Monty.

“You didn’t look at anything, did you?” Her tone was casual, but Monty could swear her heard a slight hint of panic under the words.

“Uh, no? Why, do you have a secret someone you’re trying to hide from me?” Monty half-teased, waiting for her reaction.

“Don’t be silly!” Clarke said, her voice slightly too high pitched. “When would I have time to meet someone new? Anyway, Wells is waiting for me. See you on Saturday!” She scurried off, phone in hand, leaving Monty behind to ponder some new ideas. He opened his laptop, logged into Facebook, and pulled up the group chat that he had been so reluctant to be a part of.

Monty Green

7:19

_So I might have developments…?_

Octavia Blake

7:20

_Tell all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said the updates would be quick! Also apologies for the distinct lack of world building in this story, it kind of got away from me... Again if you want to yell at me about poor characterisation or overuse of cliche's, I can be found at princess-blakes on tumblr! <3


	4. Octavia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia is frustrated with all the unresolved feelings she can see going on between her brother and Clarke. But will our confrontational OTP ever get along?

Octavia Blake, by nature, was not a very patient person. Loyal to a fault, compassionate beyond belief, intelligent by all accounts, but definitely not patient. Which was how, on a Saturday evening before her friend’s twentieth birthday dinner, she was standing in front of a mirror in her boyfriend’s apartment, ranting. While simultaneously applying makeup.

“And I mean, it’s not even like they’re being subtle about it, babe” she fumed, wriggling the mascara wand over her eyelashes. “Every time we’re all together, Bellamy _says_ he’s there so he can spend time with me, but half the time he’s arguing with Clarke, and the rest of the time he’s looking for more ways to pick a fight with Clarke!”

Lincoln, from his position on the couch where he was sketching, made a dutiful ‘mm’ sound. They had been having different variations of this same conversation for the past month, and he had exhausted any advice he might’ve been able to offer. Not that Octavia minded really, he was a good sounding board.

“And you know, every time he comes over and she’s out, it’s like he’s disappointed she’s not there. Not that he’d actually come out and say it, it’s just like,” She imitated her brother’s deep voice. “’Where’s the princess? She out mingling with high society? Not that I care, because I have no feelings, especially not for Clarke Griffin, who I’ve had a crush on for like six months.’”

“Are you sure that’s verbatim?” Lincoln asked drily. Octavia shot a look at him, and he put up his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, if he’s not comfortable talking about how he feels right now, maybe leave him be? If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen in its own time.”

Octavia groaned, screwing on the lid of her mascara and pulling out a blush from the make-up bag at her feet. “I’ve let it be for _six months_ Lincoln. I can’t wait anymore! Also, if nothing happens in the next week and a half Raven will win the bet that we have going with Monty and Miller”.

“Aha! There it is,” Lincoln proclaimed. “Your true selfish motives are revealed!” He pointed a finger at her dramatically, a smile creeping across his normally stoic face.

“Shut up, you know it’s more than that,” Octavia muttered, turning back to the mirror and her make-up. And it was. She had known her brother her whole life, and she had never seen him act the way that he did around Clarke. It was like her very presence unnerved him, rattled him in a way that was totally foreign.

Also, he trusted her. It was obvious to anyone that was looking (and Octavia had been looking for a while). She was the one that he turned to when Jasper had broken some ribs while they were all hiking and none of them had known what to do. When Octavia’s car had got stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, it was Bellamy and Clarke that had put their heads together and come up with a plan (most of which involved Raven’s not too legal methods of jumpstarting a motor vehicle). Whenever their group of friends was being rowdy, or acting like idiots, Bellamy and Clarke weren’t too far behind, making sure no one got hurt. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so gross.

“Alright,” Lincoln said, glancing at the heavy watch on his wrist. “You nearly done? We should be going soon”

“Yeah,” Octavia said, sweeping her lip-gloss over her mouth and throwing it back down in the bag. “Let’s go. You got the present?”

“Always, for you” Lincoln smiled at her, and Octavia felt herself melt a little bit, before shoving him for being so sappy.

The drive to the restaurant was short, so by the time they got there the only people that had arrived were Jasper, Maya, and the birthday boy himself. Octavia threw her arms around Monty and squeezed him tight, proceeding to then complain about how skinny he was. Clarke and Raven rolled in not long after them, followed soon after by Bellamy and Miller, who had come straight from work. 

As they all sat down and started talking at a million miles an hour, Octavia couldn’t help glancing over at her brother and Clarke, who seemed to be making a very pointed effort not to look at each other, even though they were sitting on opposite sides of the table. Dummies.

“Five bucks says they won’t make it through the first course without arguing,” Raven whispered in her ear.

“Your obsession with gambling is starting to worry me, Reyes” Lincoln observed from the other side of Octavia.

True to form, the waiter had barely finished taking their orders before the first squabble broke out, over, of all things, cutlery.

“Trust you to have a contrary opinion on silverware Bellamy,”

“All I’m saying Clarke, is that there’s no goddamn reason to have so many forks for eating dinner. Not in the 21st century.”

“It’s tradition! Are we all supposed to eat with our hands then too, or is that too far for even you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to…?”

“Presents!” Octavia said loudly, cutting over Bellamy’s angry response. “Time to give Monty his presents!”

Everybody enthusiastically chimed in, and Octavia noticed with pleasure that Bellamy and Clarke looked slightly admonished. Gifts were practically thrown at Monty, and he opened them with various degrees of glee. The crowd favourite, however, had to be a ‘do-it-yourself’ science kit for ‘ages 3 and up’, presented very seriously by Raven, who warned Monty that it could “make things go boom”.

The rest of the dinner was a relative success (i.e. Clarke and Bellamy only snapped at each other twice) and Monty and Miller even managed to share some coy looks- to the surprise of no one. It was only when the dessert was being finished that Jasper said something stupid.

“So who wants to go see a movie?”

Octavia and Raven groaned simultaneously. Even Miller (who had only been to movie night once and had sworn never to return) looked pissed off. If Clarke and Bellamy were good at fighting about anything- and they were good at fighting about a lot of things- it was movies. Octavia was still haunted by the Star Wars argument of ’14- they hadn’t talked for two whole weeks after that fight, and the apartment had been so weirdly quiet that Raven had taken to playing heavy metal music to fill the silence. No one had enjoyed it. 

“Sure!” Monty said, oblivious to the daggers Octavia was staring at him. “What do we think, romance, action or comedy?”

“I’ll look up the times,” Maya said, pulling out her cellphone.

“We’re going to die” Raven hissed into Octavia’s ear.

It started when they were paying up.

Bellamy and Clarke were at the end of the little line that had formed at the counter, and Octavia could hear them from where she was standing. 

“Can you at least get your head out of your ass and admit that the Fast and Furious movies are actually good movies?”

“’Good’ and ‘entertaining’ aren’t always synonymous, Bellamy,”

“God, you’re such a snob,”

“At least I have taste, rather than sitting around criticising the historical inaccuracy of every single film I see!”

“How in any way is that the same?!”

After they paid, there was a communal decision made that they would all walk to the movie theatre, which was only a few blocks over. Maya and Jasper took the lead, followed by Monty and Miller, who were talking softly to each other. Raven hung back with Octavia and Lincoln, occasionally looking over their shoulders at Bellamy and Clarke, who were arguing so intensely it was a miracle they weren’t bumping into things. 

By the time they reached the movie theatre, Bellamy and Clarke were full-on yelling at each other, with words like “book-to-movie adaption” and “production budget cuts” being thrown about.

“I vote we just go in,” Lincoln volunteered. “Let Beatrice and Benedick duke it out.”

“Cool with me,” Monty said. “So, the new Nicholas Sparks then?”

“You better be joking,” Miller said, holding the door open for him. “Because there is no way in hell I am sitting through that romantic garbage…”

“Relax, Nate, you’re as bad as them.”

The rest of them filed into the theatre, Octavia at the back. They all bought tickets for the latest Jason Statham movie, and while Lincoln was getting popcorn, Octavia glanced towards the doors.

“I better go check on Tweedledum and Tweedledumber before they actually physically maim each other,” she said. “Go in, I’ll catch up.”

“Alright,” Lincoln said. “Hurry up, or you might miss the scene with the car chase!”

“They’re all scenes with the car chase!” Octavia called over her shoulder, making her way to the double doors.

As she expected, Bellamy and Clarke were still going at it, with Bellamy actually bodily attempting to tower over Clarke in a pitiful attempt to intimidate her- like that would ever happen. Octavia cracked open the door so she could hear what they were saying.

“All your dumbass films are exactly the same- the protagonist looks off into the distance and swans off to ‘find themselves’ or whatever and all the audience is left with is an ambiguous ending!” Bellamy was saying, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatedly. 

“Maybe I like a bit of ambiguity!” Clarke replied, prodding him in a chest as if to make a point. “Maybe it leaves more to the imagination rather than setting everything in stone!”

Bellamy made an exasperated noise at the back of his throat. “Life’s not about setting things in stone, it’s about making decisions! Choosing your own path! There’s a massive difference. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from my ‘dumbass’ movies.”

Clarke stopped from where she was pacing in front of him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look at you Clarke!” Bellamy said, gesturing at her. “You can’t make a decision to save your life! Maybe to save someone else’s, but not your own. You’re killing yourself in pre-med to make your mother happy, you’re dying in a job that you want to quit but are too scared to- what sort of life is that?”

Clarke’s mouth had dropped open, and she was looking at Bellamy like she had never seen him properly before.

“All those texts you sent me from work, while you were in class, you were saying was how powerless you felt. Like your life was happening to you, not by you.” Bellamy took a step forward, his dark eyes set on hers. Octavia had to stop herself from squealing. Something was _happening_.

“So what are you going to do? Are you going to keep waiting for choices to be made for you? Are you just going to spend your life regretting the choices you didn’t make?” Bellamy’s voice had dropped significantly, and he almost sounded pleading.

Clarke looked up at him, biting her lip like she was in thought. The two of them were almost sepia-toned, the light from the theatre sign shining down on their faces. They stood together, cars flying past them, the rest of the world in fast-forward while they were perfectly paused.

“You’re so full of shit,” she said, and she kissed him. He seemed taken aback for a second, then, slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her body closer to his own.

Octavia wished she had brought popcorn. Actually, no, she had to look away now because the little sister part of her brain was kicking in and was realising how wrong it was, watching her brother make out with one of her best friends.

Turning her back and gently easing the door shut, she could’ve sworn she heard Clarke saying; “How’s that for a choice?”

Sprinting across the foyer, she made her way to the theatre where her friends were, and spotted them halfway down the back row. Shuffling down, she claimed her pre-saved seat between Raven and Lincoln, like always.

“How are our dynamic duo?” Raven asked, half-paying attention as an ad for a Pixar movie rolled across the screen.

“They’re fine,” Octavia said nonchalantly, fighting to hide a smile in the dark. “Oh, and Raven?”

“Yeah?”

“You owe me twenty bucks,”

“Damn it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end! It's been a wild ride, publishing this, but thank you for all being so kind and reading it and kudos-ing it and commenting! I was hella nervous to put this little fic out into the big bad world, and y'all have made it so easy. As always, you can find me on princess-blakes on tumblr. <3

**Author's Note:**

> So originally this was going to be a oneshot, but I got up to nearly 4,000 words and I thought, why the hell not make it a multi-chap? So that's what it is. It's basically nearly done, so hopefully updates shouldn't take too long. Anyway, this is my first fic for this fandom, so be kind if my characterizations aren't always on point- I'm trying, I swear. Any comments would be appreciated also!


End file.
